


Then I'll Be Happy

by ijemanja



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yuletide New Year's Resolutions Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has never been very good at parties. Post-episode tag for the first season finale, 1x13 King Memses' Curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then I'll Be Happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/gifts).



> A late New Year's Resolutions story - which might have been later, but I wanted to post before the new series starts. Title comes from Josephine Baker's song of the same name.

Jack has never been very good at parties. He's not the sociable type; he prefers to observe than join in, and there at least being a police detective gives him an excuse. Not so much, perhaps, at a friend's birthday celebration, but he sees little point in a man fighting against his nature. So he has spent most of the evening standing out of the way, trying not to drink too much champagne.

It's very good champagne.

In fact it should be noted that Jack has _not_ enjoyed this very good champagne quite as much as some of the other party-goers have, Miss Fisher herself notably among them. All the same, at this point in the evening his smile comes a little easier, his slouch against the sideboard is a little more casual, his gaze perhaps lingering in certain directions a bit longer than it normally would be allowed. 

Phryne stands alone, swaying to the tinkling tune coming from the gramophone player. She has the requisite champagne glass in her hand, smiling as she watches Dot and Jane play a lively round of cards with Mr Butler.

Off in another corner of the room, Dr Macintosh, Cec, and Burt seem to be taking turns telling stories to Hugh with the intent of seeing who can shock the young man the most. So far, Dr Mac appears to be winning.

The other member of their small party, Aunt Prudence, occupies an armchair, snoring softly.

Everyone else are thus occupied, except for him and Miss Fisher.

No sooner does the thought occur to him than she looks over and catches him watching her. Too late to pretend otherwise, he tips his glass to her. She returns the silent gesture, and they both drink.

She lowers her glass and then, introducing a touch more purpose to the movements of her little solitary dance, she holds out an inviting hand, wanting him to join her. 

He rolls his eyes. No.

She beckons him again. Adds a shimmy. Her smile is wide and her eyes laughing at him.

He smiles back. A bit. At this point it's an effort to restrain a laugh but still, it wouldn't do to have her think she amuses him.

She raises an arched eyebrow, daring him to reconsider, as the hems of her gown swirl languidly round her legs. She could be the most glorious woman he's ever seen.

So he arches an eyebrow in return and reconsiders: He isn't on duty, after all, and there is certainly something to celebrate tonight, isn't there?

He concludes that he still isn't going to dance with her. Definitely not.

He gives his head a final shake of refusal, clears his throat and fixes his gaze firmly down at the glass in his hand. More champagne might be in order, and he lifts it to his lips to drain. After a moment, she - this woman who dislikes being either refused or ignored more than anyone else he has ever met - settles beside him, arms folded over her chest.

"Why not?" she says. 

She's very close to pouting. He decides not to tell her that, at this point, he really just enjoys telling her no. 

"I can't," he tells her instead.

"Oh, come on Jack, I'm sure you can. No one's expecting you to pull out a waltz."

He can waltz perfectly well, for the record. The point is, he is choosing not to.

"It's not that. I have an injury that prevents me. It's quite serious."

She frowns. "Your head? You assured me there was no sign of concussion." She looks to be about to summon the good doctor to his side at once, even though days have passed since the incident at the college, and there can hardly be any emergency.

He has to hide his smile. "My leg, actually. I've been suffering. Feels like it was kicked by a draft horse."

When she realises what he's talking about, she tosses her head, indignant. "You deserved it. I hope there's a bruise."

"Assaulting an officer of the law?"

"Of course you would see it that way."

"What possible other way is there to see it?" he asks, knowing he shouldn't. 

"From my perspective, it was, quite simply, a grievous miscarriage of justice." He makes a scoffing noise. She narrows her eyes. "Restraining an innocent woman like that? Holding her against her will? Shocking abuse of power. There have been revolutions over less."

"I'll be sure to alert the monarchy." He pauses, and sighs. "And I don't suppose there is any point in hoping you'll never give me a reason to do it again."

He is very aware then of her leaning closer, shoulder pressing into his, her head inclining towards his. "Never say never, Jack. You know, when I had imagined you... and me... and restraints, it was under vastly different circumstances."

"You... imagined?" He looks down again at his glass and suddenly wishes it weren't so empty. 

"Vividly. Oh, really, you've no idea the places a woman's imagination can take her."

_Restraints._

He blinks. "Apparently not."

She looks about to say something else - and Jack has to wonder what could possibly come from her mouth to follow that - when the song comes to an end. At the sudden lack of background noise the moment passes, and she just ducks her head and laughs.

Jane meanwhile has jumped up from the card table to put on a different record, declaring it one of her favourites as it starts to play. Mr Butler is then coaxed to his feet to dance with her, and the old gentleman obliges her cheerfully. 

Though she seems no worse for wear, after the ordeal young Jane has been through, Jack thinks, even he would probably dance with the girl if she asked. 

He glances sidelong, to find that all Phryne's attention is now on her adopted daughter. 

"She's a brave girl," he says.

"Yes."

And here is a woman, he needs no reminder, who has been through that much and more. The Foyle case might be done with once and for all, thank god, but the after-effects will surely be felt for a long time. 

He doesn't miss the shadow of pain that crosses her face as she watches Jane dance. He looks away, because there's nothing for him to do to help her with what she must be feeling. 

He's starting to feel quite guilty for not having danced with her when she wanted. It's her birthday; she should have whatever she wants.

He misses the change in Phryne's demeanour while he's busy looking elsewhere - at the moment, observing Dr Mac pull Dot over to join Jane and Mr Butler for a foxtrot.

"And now, a dance!" Phryne grins widely as she snatches his glass, placing it alongside her own on the sideboard. She seizes his unresisting hand. "And you, Detective Inspector, will not refuse me this time." 

His mouth drops open. "I won't?"

"No. Do you know why? Because it's my birthday."

Of course he has already decided he will, and she, somehow, knows it. The woman is part sorceress, it can be the only explanation.

He makes another token protest anyway. "But my injury."

"I'll be gentle."

He steps towards her and twirls her under his arm, surprising a laugh from her. 

"Oh no, Miss Fisher. I wouldn't want that."


End file.
